


Ready Player Six

by aristotle_chipotle



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cyberpunk, Dreamsharing, Eames goes a little crazy with the forgery, Forging (Inception), Geeky, Gen, Inception but they're all closeted gamers, K-pop References, Laser Tag, Legend of Zelda References, Now you're thinking with portals, Overwatch References, Pokemon Battles, Pop Culture, Portals, Post-Inception, Protective Team, Puzzles, Team Dynamics, Teamwork, This is so sad Alexa play Pop/Stars by K/DA, Video Game Mechanics, Wizard's Chess (Harry Potter), this is just me geeking out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristotle_chipotle/pseuds/aristotle_chipotle
Summary: Still working together post-inception, Cobb and the team take an intriguing job to plant an idea in the mind of a young video game developer and wealthy heiress. Everything goes perfectly, until she becomes aware that she can control the dream.Suddenly, the team finds themselves stranded in limbo, which their mark has manipulated to her liking. It's a digital, cyberpunk nightmare run on games and entertainment, where one wrong move could mean the end of the job. In order to finish the mission, the extractors have to play the game by the mark's rules, and that means LITERALLY playing games. The only way to get close to her is an arcade-style tournament that will challenge each of them in a unique way, forcing them to rely on their skills and instincts and trust each other.In this world, only the winners survive.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

Chau-Minh Tang was a hard person to track.

She moved erratically, like a glitch, like a ghost. She was rich, and she was haphazard in her decision-making. She would spend a weekend in Hanoi with her investor father and programmer mother, and then she was off to San Diego for a gaming expo, or to Shanghai for a convention, or to Seoul for an EVERGLOW concert at her leisure.

Or, as Dom Cobb so delicately put it at a meeting, Chau-Minh Tang was young and stupid.

"Twenty-two year old tech heiress and computer prodigy," he said that afternoon, dropping a folder full of paperwork down on a table in the new warehouse the team had temporarily adopted, just south of Chicago. "Chau-Minh Tang."

Saito glanced at the papers. "Any relation to An Tang, the tech millionaire?"

"Billionaire," Cobb corrected, "and yes, she's his only kid. In fact, An Tang was the one who contacted me about this job."

The team was silent, confused. Cobb hadn't said much prior to the meeting that would outline their next job and paycheck, but it was inception. Not as complex as the last time, he promised. No layers. No limbo. But inception was still inception, and things were more dangerous. They would have to be careful.

Eames laughed. "An Tang contacted you about inception for his own kid? He's her father! He can put ideas into her head without a third party getting involved."

"So you would think."

Cobb turned, pen in hand, and started writing on the pad of paper behind him as a visual aid.

"An Tang," he said, "contacted me a month ago about training. He's had subconscious defense training done. Everyone of his means has. He even made his wife get it, and I was with the team who worked with him, but that was a long time ago."

He wrote, in large letters, _The Heiress_.

"Chau-Minh isn't a kid anymore, and she's recently come into possession of a significant share of the company."

"And she's in Monaco gambling it off," added Arthur, chuckling. "The news has been all over it recently."

"Right," said Cobb. "Now that Chau-Minh is a shareholder and getting ready to leave the nest for new business ventures of her own, her old man has been pestering her about getting herself trained so no one can infiltrate the company via Chau-Minh's somewhat... how should I say... _unguarded_ mind."

"So this is a training job?" asked Ariadne. "I thought you said it was inception."

"It was _supposed_ to be a training job, but things got a little out of hand." Cobb laughed. "Chau-Minh has refused all dream training. According to Mr. Tang, it's a youthful display of hubris. She doesn't want it. She doesn't think she needs it. She doesn't think anyone would be able to catch her off-guard and infiltrate her mind."

There was an amused murmur of laughter from the group.

"So we are, to put it mildly, going to change her mind." Cobb turned away from the board, facing his team and putting the cap back on the pen. "An Tang has hired us, for an impressive sum, to construct a dream that will encourage a little healthy fear in Chau-Minh. We need to make her aware of what extractors can do, and how easily her own subconscious can be manipulated. Dreams aren't one of her video games. They are very real, and it's time she learned just what we can do."

* * *

Chau-Minh Tang was on the bullet train to Singapore in two weeks. There was a gaming convention, and there was going to be a preview of her latest creation: _Gambit Royale_. They would intercept her on the train. It was the old routine they're used on Saito, but simpler. One layer, Cobb thought, was all it would take.

It was Arthur's idea to try the Mr. Charles skit again. In a dream world designed to be identical to the convention hall Chau-Minh was attending, they'd approach her and offer her a chance to put her training to good use. They'd make her aware she was dreaming and give a nice little demonstration of how extraction can work. It was simple, fast, and foolproof. Easier than Saito. Easier than Fischer.

She was barely an adult, and certainly didn't act like one, according to her father. Any sensible person in her position would have the brains to get someone to train them to protect themselves. To be prepared for anything. Chau-Minh was proud, and that was going to be her downfall if someone didn't step in.

Ariadne found pictures of the convention center online for reference and began to build. She visited a showcase as a brief spectator, wandering the floor until she'd seen everything she needed to see. She got her notes.

The father was a helpful insider perspective. He was the one who tipped them off when Chau-Minh had finished her latest partying streak and was headed to a family vacation home in Bangkok. Now, it was only a matter of waiting.

Cobb would lead, as usual, and initiate the interaction with Chau-Minh. Ariadne would get them where they needed to go. Yusuf would get everyone to sleep. Arthur, Eames, and Saito were eyes and ears in case anything went wrong, but what would go wrong? It was the simplest job they'd tried in a while, and the youngest target.

Young was fast and unpredictable, but also inexperienced. Cobb had high hopes for the outcome.

* * *

They took the plane to Bangkok on Friday, the day before the mark was scheduled to leave. Twenty-four hours to settle and get ready. The bullet train was already paid for. The attendant was already tipped generously for their assistance. Everything was bought out.

On Saturday, Arthur stood in the terminal, leaning against a pillar, watching a black car pull up. The mark got out, notably unguarded. She had a backpack as her only luggage, and a confident, somewhat arrogant look in her eye as she paid and boarded the train. The description matched. Short. Dark eyes. Dark hair. When she raised her arm to adjust her hairstyle, the loose sleeve of her sweatshirt exposed an inch or two of the most distinct feature: the tattoo sleeves up both arms.

She had headphones on - a garish novelty set with cat ears - blasting Korean pop loud enough for passers-by to hear. She was oblivious to the world, relaxed in her money and status. She didn't notice Arthur, even when he gave the almost imperceptible signal to the others to board the train. They spaced themselves out carefully as not to look like a team, and casually entered the car.

Cobb felt overdressed. The train was mostly for business travelers, and in any other car they would have been fine in their suits and leather shoes, but Chau-Minh looked like she'd just rolled out of bed. Last night's eye makeup was the only trace of a full week of partying, and the circles under her eyes almost matched.

_She might need this sleep, Cobb thought. It'll do her good.  
_

She glanced up only once at the other passengers in the car before losing herself in her phone and music. They were an interesting group of characters. Ordinary, she thought, but somewhat unique. The status quo for the train, but perhaps, not enough locals to be an average group. Foreign travelers. Maybe they were going to the convention.

The train began to move, and they were on the clock. They could practically hear the ticking as Arthur watched the station disappear in the distance. He counted _one, two, three_. He idly tapped his fingers on the side of the seat - a signal planned - and the attendant appeared right on cue with refreshments.

Cobb pretended not to see. He stared out the window, acting unaware. His shoe brushed the device under his seat.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" asked the attendant.

"Club soda," said Chau-Minh, with the energy of someone likely still fighting a hangover. Her voice was gravelly in her throat.

Cobb was next to her. She nudged him.

"You want something?" she asked informally, gesturing to the attendant. Cobb nodded, taking care not to let her see his face too well.

Cobb had the same, briefly making eye contact with Arthur and Saito across the aisle. A few moments, and the drinks were there. Cobb took his slowly and carefully, watching as Chau-Minh briefly removed her headphones, not bothering to turn down the volume. They would have to wait. It could be a few minutes or an hour, depending on how eager she was for the soda.

Luck was on their side. The heiress downed it like a shot, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. She set her phone on the tray table and started watching a music video.

Moments later, she was slumped forward, her face against the seat. Cobb nodded to Arthur, delicately removed the headphones to avoid any interference, and got to work.

He let the music video keep playing as the inserted the device into her arm, rolling back the sleeve to expose the tattoos. Arthur started the countdown, and they got comfortable in their seats. It was like instinct now.

 _Easy money_ , Cobb thought, as reality faded away.


	2. Chapter 2

_I feel good,_ she thought to herself. _I feel better._

Chau-Minh confidently strode across the exhibition hall, in the low, multicolored mood lighting the various booths and stages cast on the carpet. A sort of technological stained-glass wonderland. There was low music, with steady, pumping bass like the place's heartbeat. The energy was unmistakable, and only elevated by the life of the crowd as they talked excitedly, parting to let her pass. 

She walked with no bodyguard this time. She had assumed one was there, but when she turned, he wasn't by her side. Odd, but all the better. She would rather have been alone.

It was the strangest feeling, like she'd zoned out for a minute and suddenly couldn't remember where she was going or why. The same feeling she often got late at night when she walked to the kitchen and couldn't remember why. It was annoying and disorienting. All around her, the lights pulsed with possibility, but where to start? And what had she been doing.

She cursed under her breath, silently promised to never drink again, and kept walking. What she did know was that she was there for Gambit Royale. She just had to hype it up, high-five some fans, and then the rest of the day was hers to chat up developers and explore new possibilities.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirrored wall and paused to get a better look, resting a hand on her hip and giving the slightest pose. She didn't remember buying the dress, but it was nice. Her style, definitely. Maybe it had been a gift.

"Miss Tang?"

A man wearing a lanyard came up behind her. She recognized him, even in the hazy light. Jake Tran, a friend of the family and a mentor, even though he was only a couple years her senior.

"Jake." She smiled. "I'm glad to see you. I totally just spaced out, and I can't remember where I'm going."

"I _believe_ you were going back to find the bodyguard your father assigned to you for this event." He gave her a knowing smile.

She groaned. "Look, I'm just glad I got rid of him again. I don't want to be stalked for the entire expo. I like breathing room. Besides, it's not like someone's going to try to assassinate me or anything. Chill out."

"Your father is... conservative sometimes, but he means well. You might do well to listen to him. You can never be _too careful_."

On those words, Jake's eyebrows went up in a way Chau-Minh wasn't sure she liked.

"Quit teasing." She nudged him. "I'm fine and you know it."

"If you insist."

Jake was being pretty formal with his language today, she noted. His uncle was probably here. Jake was the coolest guy in the world, except when his uncle was watching. Jake was set on inheriting his share of his uncle's business, and always trying to impress him.

"But really," she said. "Where am I going?"

Jake glanced at his watch. "The _Gambit Royale_ showcase isn't for another hour. It's just at the other end of the hall. Are you okay? You don't look too good."

"I feel weird." Chau-Minh sighed, laughing a breathy laugh. "I don't know. You'd think, after all this time, I wouldn't get nervous, huh?"

"You should grab a drink." Jake nodded at the glowing tables across the convention hall.

"That's the last thing I need right now. I just barely recovered from my last one. You know I'm a wimp when it comes to alcohol."

"Not alcohol. Get yourself a soda or something. It'll calm your nerves."

Nodding, Chau-Minh decided she had nothing to lose, and turned towards the bar. Soda sounded good. As she started to pass through the thick crowd, it occurred to her that Jake was working too, and he might want something if he couldn't get off his feet for a while.

"Hey, can I get you a-"

She turned, but Jake was gone, vanished without a trace. By the mirrored wall, there were only a few tired convention-goers in _Overwatch_ T-shirts, a janitor emptying a trash can, and an attractive man in a suit waiting for an elevator.

* * *

_"Heads up."_

Arthur's voice rang out in Cobb's earpiece as he sat at the bar, idly stirring the ice in his glass. He heard her before he saw her. Firm, determined steps in the heavy-heeled boots she wore under the dress to make herself appear taller.

"Club soda," said Chau-Minh Tang, throwing a leg over the bar stool and leaning against the counter, tapping her fingers. Her hair framed her face in black tangles, twisted like the tattoos.

Briefly, she made eye contact with the man at the bar, and it struck her that she might know him. Maybe he just had one of those faces. That was what she told herself with the intention of reassuring her restless mind. She hated seeing men with faces she vaguely recognized, especially after the recent weekend of blackout-drunk partying. She checked his eyes for any recognition of her part, half expecting him to turn and point. _Hey, you're the girl who was singing HyunA karaoke and fell into the pool! Hey, aren't you the billionaire's daughter who had to get bailed out after you got caught street racing in Bangkok?_

Fortunately, this man's eyes only met hers with a polite smile. He had nice eyes, she thought, but maybe a little tired. She couldn't look too much better, so she wasn't judging. He was dressed a little formally for a tech convention. An investor maybe? She needed investors for her next game, because her dad certainly wasn't giving any more money.

The man opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but she cut in, determined to control this conversation. First and foremost, she had to be taken seriously.

"I know you," she said.

The man raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yeah, you're with Corsair Digital, right? I think we met at a charity thing last year." It was a blatant lie, but she wanted him to feel like he could talk to her. She needed the money. "Yeah, definitely. It's..." She racked her brain for names that sounded how he looked. Tired. Rich. White. "Anderson, right?" She snapped her fingers. "Anderson? Smith?"

"My name is Mr. Charles," he said plainly.

"Charles. Right. You're Mr. Charles, huh? I remember you."

He didn't move to deny it, she noticed, but he didn't correct her either. Maybe he was a liar, she thought for a moment. Maybe he was a con artist, and he saw her lies as a way in.

"Some show, huh?" She gestured broadly at the hall.

"Oh, it's very fascinating. I've seen a lot I'm interested in."

She held out her hand. "Chau-Minh Tang."

"I remember," he said. "I'm a fan of your work."

"You played it?"

"Played what?"

" _Gambit Royale_." She downed the soda and checked her watch. She was disoriented for some reason, and couldn't remember which room was hers for the showcase. She'd need time to prepare. "Sorry, I should be going. I have a-"

"Wait." The man stood up. "If I could just have a moment."

"If you're trying to sell me something, I don't want it. I don't have time right now. Call my secretary."

"I'm not trying to sell you anything, Miss Tang." There was a cool urgency in his voice that made her uneasy. "I'm here to protect you."

"I've already got a bodyguard." She stepped back slightly.

"Not like that," he said. He glanced around. "Is there somewhere we can talk more privately? This is very important."

His gaze traveled past her to just over her shoulder. There was a dim lounge there, with a bench under the blue shade of a few large, potted palms. She didn't like it, but he didn't seem like a creep. He was acting genuinely concerned. She nodded, and they walked over to the palms, just out of sight, their words conceals under the pulse of the music and the cheers as someone at a test game beat a hard level.

"What do you want?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Miss Tang, my name is Mr. Charles..."

"We've established this. We're now at the part where you said you were going to protect me from someone."

"Yes." He smiled. "Well, not _someone_ , as much as the possibility of _something_. Do you know what an extractor is?"

She shrugged, rolling the word over her tongue. She'd heard it, definitely in a professional context. Dad. He said it a lot. Only a few weeks ago, he'd been arguing with someone on the phone about extractors. She'd overheard.

There was a memory in the haze of her mind. It was right there, but she couldn't seem to remember. It was important. Her father hated that word. Extractors. What had he said to her about it?

Suddenly, she knew.

"You mean like dream stuff?" She stared at the stranger. "My father mentioned that. Idea-theft. Dreams and stealing ideas. I know about that a little. It's crazy if you ask me."

He frowned. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I mean, no one gives any information to people they meet in dreams. They're not even real people. If you were dreaming, you'd notice someone stealing from you. You're in control of the dream. Besides, I'd know if I was dreaming."

"Would you?" he asked. Maybe it was the PlayStation light board behind her, but she could have sworn she saw a glint in his eye.

"Why?"

"Miss Tang, what if I told you that you were dreaming right now?"

Chau-Minh frowned, turned to look over her shoulder at the crowd, and turned back to Mr. Charles. She laughed in his face, half expecting a punchline, but he did not laugh. Her expression turned serious again.

"No," she said. "What? No. I'm not dreaming. I'm in a convention center for work. I don't dream about work. I dream about... Batman and shit."

"Can you remember how you got here, Miss Tang?" His eyes smiled, a little bit patronizing, she thought. "Stay calm, but I'm asking you to retrace your steps. You never start a dream at the beginning. It's always in the middle of things. How did you get into this convention center."

She felt a chill run down her spine. She ran a hand over her sleeve. The dress was real. She was real. She reached out and, on an impulse, poked the stranger's shoulder. He was real. It was all too complex to be a dream.

"I was..." she gasped. "I was just here. I thought I-"

"I know it's a lot to take in, but you have to be calm. You're safe for now. Just listen to me."

"No." she said firmly. "No, no, no, no, no. This isn't real. I can just wake up, right? What's happening? Are you an extractor?"

"No. Well, yes, but not now. Listen to me. Don't panic."

She laughed nervously. "I'm not panicking. I'm just... _wow_. This is all a dream? So I can't die if I jumped off that balcony up there?"

"Theoretically, no," he said. "But don't do that. I have some questions for you first."

He couldn't let her get too excited. Her projections were an amateur's, so the team was less likely to be attacked, but it was still a possibility. Already, people across the floor were staring, pausing a little too long in their wandering as Chau-Minh looked around.

"If I'm dreaming," she said, "I can do weird stuff, right? I can fly. Yeah, I read that. It's called lucid dreaming, I think."

Cobb was losing patience. It had been easier with Ariadne, the curious academic. Ariadne had approached the dream like the architect she was. Chau-Minh was approaching it like an entitled brat, desperate for access to power.

"Yes and no," said Cobb. "That concept exists in this space as architecture. You do have moderate control of the dream, but it takes practice. If you try too hard without experience, you'll lose control, and it'll start collapsing on us. I don't want that to happen. You need to listen to me. This isn't something you're going to get on the first try, and it's not why I'm here. I need to warn you about-"

He stopped short when he felt the telltale rumbling under his feet, and he saw the determined excitement on her face. She was trying.

"Stop that," he ordered.

The rumbling didn't stop. It rose to a crescendo, and he heard screams. Clouds of dust drifted down from the ceiling panels.

The fabric of the dream was ripping, as it would with any beginner, but she was also succeeding. Little bits of light. Flaws in the architecture. The room seemed suddenly to be folding in on itself, clicking like mahjong tiles or shuffled dominoes. She was manipulating it. The dream was rebelling, but she was manipulating it.

"Stop," Cobb repeated. "This is dangerous. You'll bring the building down on us."

"Does it matter?" She smiled. "It's not real, huh? We can do whatever we want."

"You'll get yourself killed."

She flexed her fingers eagerly as she stood there, like she could feel it folding at her command. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"And what if I die? I'll just wake up." She laughed. "So you're the extractor my dad warned me about? Not very impressive. It's still my dream, and I make the rules."

"You don't even know what you're doing," said Cobb. "If we die, you won't wake up just yet. There's still time on... you just won't. You'll be trapped, and then you might forget you're dreaming." He'd given up the pretense. There was no point. It was over, and they had to focus on keeping her alive now. Where was Arthur? Where was the rest of the team? Surely they'd noticed that something was wrong. They had to wrap this up _fast_.

Chau-Minh stretched an arm out to the room, and the far end of the convention hall began shuffling in on itself like a deck of playing cards. It was a mess of concrete and shattered glass and sparks, and she showed no sign of quitting. The floor rumbled. The dream could only hold so long in her inexperienced hands before...

It all shattered at once, striking Cobb's spine and throwing him across the room. There was a final piercing shriek, and the ceiling fell on the entire thing, completely collapsing and immediately expanding outward in a burst of light like a firework.

Just before the ceiling crushed him, Cobb caught Arthur's eye across the room, and they shared an expression of pure panic. The dream wasn't over.

It had only just begun.


	3. Chapter 3

The awakening was instant, and they were on the shores of the depths of the target's mind, but it was no wasteland.

Anything left behind in limbo in the past was long gone. Shattered, even. There was a city there, but not Cobb's creation. The empty shells of the abandoned buildings of his mind were gone, replaced with something bigger and stranger and darker.

He sat up, coughing himself awake and stumbling out of the salty ocean spray. There were storm clouds overhead, a telltale sign of instability of the dream, but there was so much ahead of them, and it didn't look unstable at all.

"Ariadne?" he called. "Arthur?" He counted. They were all there, in various stages of confusion. No doubt some of them hadn't even seen what had happened before the convention center caved in and crushed them. He helped Ariadne to her feet.

"What happened?" called Eames. "I directed her like you asked. How did we end up here?"

"Someone else was controlling it," gasped Ariadne. "I felt it. Someone was manipulating it."

"That was our gracious host," sighed Cobb. "She... well, the plan didn't go as expected. The second I told her she was dreaming, she took over. I've never seen anyone pick it up instantaneously like that. It's terrifying, honestly."

Eames and Yusuf helped Saito up. Arthur frowned, pointing at the structures on the edge of the shore, about a hundred yards away from the sea.

"And what's all this supposed to be?" he asked incredulously.

It was magnificent, and it was messed up. The organized, artfully-designed ruins of Cobb's had been crushed under a geometric skyline that spoke of haste and minimalism, but pulsed with light like the room they'd been in only moments ago. It was almost computerized, vaguely reminiscent of TRON's early 80s CGI. The whole thing had been raised in only a matter of seconds, humming and pounding like a circuit board alive with music and light.

This, Cobb thought, was the product of an overactive, restless mind. Chau-Minh's mind was used to making cities from the ground up, with nothing to work with but void. This was just a new challenge, and these tools were already in her subconscious.

"How is that possible?" Ariadne called over the increasing noise, shielding her eyes from the artificial light as they approached. "She's not an architect. She has no training."

"Oh, she's an architect, just not for dreams."

When the others were silent in confusion, Cobb explained his hypothesis.

"Chau-Minh Tang is a game developer," he said. "She hasn't work with dreams before, but she's brilliant, at least according to her old man. Her brain is already used to filling in a void with life and activity like this. She probably didn't even realize she was doing it. She just woke up here the same as us. This wasn't built manually, but it was already there in her mind. I've heard of this happening before with architects with photographic memory skills. I'll bet this is an open world from one of her games."

"So why isn't she here?" asked Saito, gesturing to the empty stretch of beach. "I thought she would wake up with us."

"Same reason. She's made this world before when she made the game. She must already know her place in it. I'll bet that if we find her, we'll find her in the heart of whatever activity is happening in that city."

There was a collective breath before anyone spoke. No one wanted to go after her. Not if it meant interacting with whatever a video game dev's subconscious could conjure at a moment's notice.

"So we have to find her," said Ariadne. "We have to finish the job."

Arthur laughed coldly. "I say we get on top of one of those buildings and all take a nice jump. There's no way we're recovering from this one. This is her world now, Dom. She's on to us."

Cobb considered both possibilities. They'd never seen a dream like this. It was alive and breathing and moving, same as their mark. It might be suicide if they didn't know what to expect, and if Ariadne started trying to manipulate it, Chau-Minh would notice. They needed the element of surprise on their side. Cobb wasn't sure how they would even begin to accomplish what they'd set out to do with the status quo changed as it was.

But they couldn't just leave. He needed An Tang's favor for any future ventures, if he wanted high-paying jobs. There was a lot depending on this one.

"Shouldn't be too hard," he said. "Just find the center of the city. If she's got an overactive imagination, it'll be focusing energy around her. We can talk to projections and get oriented again."

"And then what?" asked Yusuf.

"Honestly? I don't know. But we've improvised before. We can do it again."

* * *

It was mesmerizing, but it was a hasty mess of a world. The digital buildings sometimes clipped into one another, breaking any illusion of reality. Some simply dissolved into easy-to-imagine squares like a Tetris game. Bigger wasn't better in the case of dream architecture. Chau-Minh's limbo city was enormous and bright and sprawling, but it wasn't a place you could lose yourself in, or mistake for reality.

Projections flickered. Some even vanished into thin air.

Cars moved at hundreds of miles per hour, leaving nothing but streaks of light.

Some parts of it, on the farthest edges, seemed to be actively building and destroying themselves of their own accord. Without training, Chau-Minh's dream had no support. It was actively crumbling and rising up again just as fast.

The projections were unsettling. Some were human, or at least humanoid, but others were smooth and angular, with colored light for skin and uncanny faces that glitched and flickered and blurred themselves. Then, there was always this eerie humming sound, sometimes growing so loud it made Cobb's head hurt.

"They're wrong," said Ariadne softly as they passed a bus stop. "They're not...people. What are they?"

"Ideas," said Eames. "Her mind knows there should be a population, but she hasn't solidified what kind of city this is. Watching too many sci-fi movies probably. The result is something halfway human, but not stable enough to take a specific form."

A faceless projection stared at them as they passed, eyeing them warily with what Cobb imagined were eyes. The group froze, waiting to see what would happen.

All of a sudden, the _thing_ lunged for the closest intruder, Saito, and firmly grabbed his arm. While Saito exclaimed and tried to shake it off, another came up behind Ariadne, staggering like a zombie, a husk of a living thing. Its glowing fingers extended and extended into claws that tightened.

"Cobb!" Ariadne screamed. "Stop it! Get it off me!"

Saito and Arthur fought the one, while Yusuf and Eames came to Ariadne's aid, pulling at the other's arms and forcing it to loosen its grip. Cobb stared. They were in plain view of the other projections, but none of them were attacking. It was the strangest thing.

And then, suddenly, with a grating shriek like some dragging a knife through a computer monitor, both attackers stumbled backwards in their distorted way and shattered into shards of pixels, gone. Vanished into nothing.

"What the hell." Ariadne stepped back, trying to catch her breath.

"That's good news," said Cobb.

"That's _good news?_ I almost _died!_ "

"I know, and I am sorry, but there's a bright side to that little... _encounter_." Cobb nodded to where the hollow things had been. "Chau-Minh can't hold projections. She's a brilliant kid, but all this is constantly changing and temporary. She doesn't have the focus to hold a solid design, and that includes the people. If we do get noticed, the projections won't last long enough to come after us, unless the boss herself is actively watching them do so."

Ariadne shuddered. "She built all this and her subconscious can't make a projection for thirty seconds?"

"It could, but she has other things she must be doing right now," said Cobb.

"Fifty bucks says she has ADHD," added Arthur. "I know the feeling."

* * *

She'd thought up a bullet train somehow, and it led them right to the heart of the city.

Cobb tried not to look too long or hard at the projections. They were the ideas of a mind that had seen all sorts of distorted, mutated human models and figured that anything would work. Some of them were business people, sort of respectable-looking. Others barely had physical form. A few burst into pixels just on the train ride.

And then they were in the center of it all, where the projections were stronger, and the buildings - while still video game-esque - seemed more real. It wasn't just a vague idea of a world. This was Chau-Minh's immediate mind thinking and adapting. Cobb had been right to go deeper. The stronger the world was, the closer they were to the mark.

"There maybe?" laughed Yusuf, pointing up at a towering hotel with windows that glowed with energy. It towered over everything else, piercing the low haze of clouds like a knife and lighting them up in a sort of halo. Almost every projection in the area was moving towards the building. It was the hub of activity. Cobb heard music and cheering.

"I know this one," said Saito. "This is her father's hotel in Bangkok. It's perfectly detailed. She must be here."

"Good thinking." Cobb started towards the open doors, but felt a hand on his shoulder as Arthur stopped him.

"We need a plan," Arthur warned. "Yes, we need to finish the job, but I'm more concerned about waking up. My guess is that she doesn't feel like leaving anytime soon, and chances are, she still remembers that she's in a dream. We're in trouble if she finds out we're here."

"We just need to get close to her again," said Cobb. "I'm formulating a plan. We can still finish the job if we stop playing nice. We can intimidate her on an even playing field."

"Does this look like an even playing field to you?"

"Just give me time," insisted Cobb. "I've been down here much longer than she has."

The hotel lobby was a maze of shady characters and unsettling projections that, in the distinct radius of their creator's mind, were more highly detailed and planned. Humans, but also robots and elf-like creatures and people with cybernetic limbs and fantasy weapons. Cobb found himself sandwiched somewhat between Eames, who was reluctant to move forward with every new sighting of a lizard with a gun or a girl with cat ears, and Ariadne, who was half pressed against his back in the hopes of picking up the pace. It was all lights and bright colors that almost stung, all drowned under the thundering pulse of more Korean hip-hop that the mark's subconscious was keeping itself busy with.

"There," whispered Saito, touching Cobb's shoulder. "Something we can use."

Across the room, where it would have been in any ordinary hotel, was a check-in desk. Hovering behind it was some kind of robot woman. Her face was smooth and blank, only blinking to display emotion. Her hands hovered over a computer keyboard, not tethered to her body, held in place by some kind of magnetic field. There was a line, but Cobb pulled the group towards the desk and they waited.

"Watch it," said a girl as Ariadne bumped into her accidentally. Ariadne started to apologize, but when she looked up, the girl had a large, ornamental bird mask for a head. Ariadne grabbed Cobb's arm, who was tired of being grabbed.

 _Welcome_ , said the disembodied, hollow voice of the robotic receptionist. _Are you here to register for the Tournament of Champions?_

"We need to see Miss Tang," said Cobb impatiently. "Chau-Minh Tang. Is she here?"

_The Tourney Mistress will oversee all preparations._

Cobb laughed awkwardly. "For what?"

_The Tournament of Champions. All teams will be competing for glory and honor. It is the entertainment of a lifetime._

"We need to see her now," said Arthur. "Not at this tournament thing. Can you give us her room number?"

_The Tourney Mistress can only be accessed through the competition. The winners will get the chance to compete against her for the title of Grand Champions._

"Great," groaned Arthur. "We're never getting out of here. She's just playing video games with herself, and she'll be doing this for years."

Cobb was silent.

"Are we leaving?" asked Eames. "Are we staying? What's happening?"

"I'm thinking," said Cobb. "This might be our only chance. If we're trying to intimidate, a game is the right way to do it, huh? That was the original plan."

"That was back when we were making the game," Arthur protested. "Now she can make it however she likes. There's no way we can get an advantage here. She will _crush_ us."

"What kind of tournament is this?" said Cobb to the receptionist.

_The Tournament of Champions is an inter-disciplinary test of strength and intelligence. Only the best will move on to the next round and meet the Tourney Mistress herself._

"She can't know we're here," Ariadne pointed out quickly. "She won't expect us, so we still have surprise on our side. She doesn't know how dreams work. Maybe this _is_ our best shot."

"It doesn't matter that she doesn't know dreams," countered Arthur. "She knows games, and we're about to be in one. That's her territory, not ours."

"Then let's vote," said Cobb. "I won't drag any of you into this without your consent. We can either stay here and hope to find Chau-Minh and finish this, or we can go find a skyscraper and say goodbye to this world. The choice is yours."

Arthur was the only one who voted in favor of the skyscraper.

"I'm no developer," said Ariadne, "but I can survive a video game. I have a little bit of experience."

"She's been teaching me," added Eames. "In our free time, I mean. Let's be optimistic about this."

Yusuf nodded in agreement. Saito looked at Cobb expectantly.

Cobb smiled slightly and turned around. "You guys can't say I don't let you have fun. I consider this a learning experience."

"Fine," Arthur said, crossing his arms. "Have it your way."

He turned to the receptionist.

"We'd like to register a team for the tournament."


	4. Chapter 4

The receptionist extended a floating hand. White, sleek, and perfectly still. the blank face made no change in expression.

Cobb hesitated.

"I think you have to shake it," said Arthur. "That might be how we initiate this... thing."

Ariadne gasped softly. "Like _Jumanji_."

"Fine." Cobb held out his hand and grasped the robot's firmly, icy metal chilling his skin.

There was a soft sound, like a chime, and Cobb suddenly felt a tingling around his neck. When he looked down, pixels were appearing out of thin air, gathering like a school of tiny fish to form a solid object hung on a lanyard. It finished creating itself and fell lightly against his chest, swinging on the lanyard. He grabbed it and held it up to the light. It was a rectangular piece of plastic, or maybe glass or something else, about the size of a credit card, light blue and glowing ever so slightly. When he turned, Ariadne wore the same. So did Yusuf. Everyone was suddenly equipped with whatever the handshake had given him.

"What's this about?" asked Arthur.

 _Follow me please_ , said the robot cheerfully.

Before any of them had time to move or even react, they weren't in the lobby anymore. It was an instant sort of teleportation, and they were in a small, gray room. Very small. It was really more of a cubicle, with no notable features except one large wall-sized window that gave them view of machinery and an outside wall moving past them rapidly. It was an elevator.

The robot stood there in the room, hands folded. _Welcome to the game. Before we begin, would you like a tutorial?_

" _Yes_ ," said Ariadne and Arthur in unison, urgently.

_Every round you progress to is a new game with a new set of challenges. Beat all opponents at the challenges, and you move on to the next round. Fail, and you will exit the tournament._

"What kind of challenges?" asked Yusuf warily.

_Excellent question! Each round requires a different set of skills, which will be outlined in the dossier on that wall before you begin. Then, you will be asked to choose a teammate to compete. Only one teammate may compete per round, so choose carefully, and take your individual skills into consideration._

"That makes no sense," Eames protested. "We wouldn't possibly be able to know what skills were required for future rounds, so we'd have no way of knowing if this round was the best role for any one of us."

_The first round begins soon! Good luck!_

And with that, their guide was gone, and they were alone in the elevator.

"This is insane," grumbled Arthur, leaning against the window. "I don't believe we have the element of surprise here. Why would she have these kind of game mechanics if she wasn't expecting participants?"

"I don't think she even realizes she has this," said Cobb, touching the wall in quiet admiration. "This must be a mechanic in one of her games. She designed it, remember? She knows those games inside and out. This is just a natural part of it that her brain automatically made. Who knows how many times she's played through games like this."

"Not trying to rush anyone here," said Saito, "but aren't we supposed to be preparing for something?"

At that moment, there was another digital chime tone, and the wall opposite the window pulsed with light. The entire thing opened into an interactive screen, with text explaining the game. The title of the first challenge was there in bright letters.

" _Angle of Attack_ ," read Arthur. "Any idea what that means?"

"No," said Cobb, "but look. It's like she told us. It shows what skills it needs."

_Agility, dexterity, fast reaction time._

The first three seemed standard for any game, Cobb thought. It was the fourth that gave him pause.

_Geometry._

"That's odd," said Yusuf. "Math?"

"Not necessarily," Cobb said. "It could mean just... spatial awareness. Shapes and stuff."

He turned to Ariande, who quickly backed away.

"It says Angle of _Attack_ ," she said, "not Angle of _Calmly Figuring Out This Puzzle_. Hard pass. I'm not in the mood to fight anyone."

"You're an architect. You might be our best chance."

"So were you," she countered.

Arthur nodded. "It seems only fitting that you take the first one, Dom. This was your idea."

"Last time I checked, we voted on this." Cobb protested, but it was clear that arguing wasn't going to get them anywhere. He had to think quickly. He was in a leadership position, and as much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was right.

But if he lost, they would lose this chance. They might not get another one.

"Fine," said Cobb, taking a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."

_Touch the chosen teammate's access key to the dossier to begin the round._

Cobb followed the instructions, grabbing the card on his lanyard and gently pressing it against the screen. The others stood back, unsure of what was going to happen.

There was a blast that made them jump, but it was no attack. It was bass, slow and pounding, building up to faster music that vibrated into their bones. And then, suddenly, cheers.

"Cobb," said Ariadne. "The window."

They were high up, over some sort of arena that seemed to drop down for miles. It was pitch-black, like a void, with only the occasional highlight of bright blue to give depth to the space. They could see an immense crowd, like a sky full of stars, far below the elevator. The music was overwhelming.

"That's not good," said Arthur.

Suddenly, Cobb gasped as he felt himself drawn from the floor by some unseen force, suspended and frozen just a few feet off the ground. When he extended his arms, he could see something happening at the very tips of his fingers, like glowing, and it was spreading rapidly like a scanner. Unsure of what to do, he held his breath as he felt something encasing him. He shut his eyes as the light spread down his arms and along his torso to the floor.

Then, his feet were on solid ground again, and he felt distinctly different.

"Wow," whispered Ariadne.

"Damn," said Eames.

When he looked down at his hands again, he was illuminated and armored. Thin veins of blue light ran down the carbon-colored armor on his arms and chest, spreading down to his pants and boots, all covered in that same segmented armor. It was strong, but it was light.

"That was... unexpected," he breathed, flexing his hands in the protective gloves. "Do I get my clothes back?"

_Prepare for transportation._

"Wait-" he started to protest, but just as suddenly as they'd traveled to the elevator, he was out of it. He was still in a moving elevator, and the cheers of the crowd mixed with the steady, unsettling music made his heart pound, but he was alone now.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the smooth glass. He looked alien. There was something weirdly familiar about all of it.

A hollow, mechanical voice echoed out through the stadium.

_All combatants, prepare for disc wars._

_Disc wars_. That was not what he'd been expecting. He bounced nervously on his heels as the elevator came to a halt, trying to control his breathing. Stay alive. Stay alive. Win the game, and we can wake up. That was his mantra as the cheers and chanting of the crowd grew to a frenzy.

_Disc wars. Disc wars. Disc wars._

The elevator stopped, and he stepped out onto another platform, which instantly sealed as he entered, forming a transparent chamber. He was trapped again, but he was no longer alone. Across from him was another faceless creation of Tang's, suited up identically. And it didn't look happy to see him.

_Platform eight. Combatants three and eleven. Disc wars._

Suddenly, a beam of light slashed forward in the dimly-lit chamber, making Cobb flinch. He barely moved in time to dodge the weapon his opponent had thrown at him. It flew close to his ear with an electric buzzing sound, ricocheted off the wall behind him, and bounced neatly back into the hand of his opponent. A near miss. He'd been lucky.

 _Of course_ , he thought. _Geometry. Angles. Disc wars_.

A sudden noise directed Cobb's attention to a chamber across from theirs, where he caught sight of two more identical combatants. One had just thrown a disc, but this weapon had found its mark. It sliced through the unfortunate victim like a sharpened blade, shattering him into shards of pixels. Cobb felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized just how lucky he'd been. He had to do something. He had to fight back. His opponent was preparing for another attack. The crowd cheered.

The second disc attack came barrelling at him even closer, and he only evaded it on an instinct. He narrowly missed the bounce off the back wall that might have shattered his spine, and thought quickly. On his back, where the opponent had gotten his disc from, was an identical weapon. The second Cobb gripped it and removed it from its place, a visor materialized, shielding his face. He was locked into the battle now. He'd drawn a weapon.

Using it was another story. He tried first throwing it like a flying disc, but it was an ineffective shot, and his opponent dodged it easily. Cobb had barely caught his disc again when a third attack came right at his head, forcing him to drop to the hard ground to avoid being decapitated. He heard it bouncing over his head as he rose, desperately trying to catch his breath.

He tried again, this time putting more power behind the disc. The shot made the opponent more uneasy, but it was still an amateur's attack. As Cobb fumbled his catch of the returning disc, he had to dodge another powerful shot aimed at his skull.

Or so he thought. The disc was thrown on a diagonal this time, throwing him off. It bounced off the ceiling just above his head and sliced straight downwards, shattering a hexagonal section of floor right under his feet. He barely had time to think before he was falling, catching only the floor's smooth edge and dragging himself back up. His pulse pounded in his skull.

So the floor could disappear too. That was dangerous. He needed all the space he had to fight.

And already, the barrage of attacks was back. His opponent was on the move, ready to take him out, crossing the gap between them in the room quickly. Cobb surveyed, waiting for the right moment, trusting his instincts...

His opponent leaped, and when his jump reached its apex, Cobb struck. One flick of his wrist, and the disc shattered through the projection's body.

The crowd cheered.

Cobb looked up expectantly. "I won. Hey, Tang! I won!"

There was no fanfare. There was no sign of his team.

"I won, right?"

The room shifted, and the half that had belonged to his opponent rotated out, replacing itself with an identical segment containing a new fighter. Cobb recognized this one as the one he'd watched shatter that poor first casualty. It looked skilled.

"I won," grumbled Cobb. "You didn't say anything about tiered matches."

Getting a feel for the disc, he swung his arm, and with only a few exchanges, he'd taken out another projection. It was getting too dangerous, though. He'd lost a lot of floor.

Then, all of a sudden, an idea formed itself in his mind. One of the battle compartments below him drifted closer in its rotation pattern, and before his opponent could appear, he let himself drop, landing squarely on the smooth surface.

It couldn't be legal, he thought, and he immediately regretted it, but the audience was loving it. He ran along the surface, looking for a way out, desperate to find the team again. Yes, they were far above him, still hovering in their floating elevator. He had to get back. He had to speed things up a little.

_Combatant three. Violation._

He slipped on the glass and slid, stumbling into the bottom compartment. Whatever he'd done must have messed with Tang's algorithm, because his presence brought the room to life. It powered up, sensing a combatant.

_Initiate final round. Combatant three versus Rinzler._

Cobb turned. There was another armored projection, but it looked much more ominous than the others he'd faced. Jet black, with orange light here and there that made them almost impossible to fully perceive. They absorbed more light than they reflected.

But his opponent was popular. _Rinzler_ , the crowd chanted. _Rinzler._

Cobb tried to shake the pain out of his legs from the fall. "You've got to be kidding me."

Rinzler raised his disc, and suddenly separated it into two, taking one in each hand and assuming a defensive stance. _Two discs?_ Cobb felt sick.

"Aw, come on," he groaned. "Is that even legal?"

This new room was five times the size of his past arenas. Rinzler's first attack seemed to bounce for eternity, finding new angles on every wall and nearly slicing Cobb twice before returning. Cobb fell and stumbled backwards, overwhelmed. He managed to get himself back on his feet for a counterattack, which Rinzler easily evaded. Cobb barely caught the returning disc, unable to predict its pattern.

There was a sudden alarm sound, and before Cobb could react, something snatched him off the ground and pulled him upwards. His back slammed against the ceiling. That couldn't be right. They'd changed gravity. Now Rinzler was coming at him again, and he could only roll out of the way, disoriented and barely surviving the match.

In Rinzler's next attack, Cobb remembered the floor. He tried to think one step ahead and slammed his disc against the hexagon Rinzler was heading for, but the projection was too quick, stopping himself only inches from Cobb. One of the two discs came out of nowhere, and Cobb almost lost an arm. His head was spinning. Rinzler was too fast.

The gravity alarm sounded again, and Cobb braced for impact as he fell and his helmet struck the floor so hard it made him dizzy. Black spots danced at the corners of his vision. He stumbled and turned just in time to see his opponent falling, aimed right at him.

Cobb gripped his disc tightly, slammed against the floor, and dove away just as the projection fell harmlessly through the hole in the floor. Cobb's gaze followed him until he hit an invisible barrier and shattered like glass.

It was over.

His lungs were burning. He let his disc fall and coughed, just beginning to lose his strength and sinking to his knees as the crowd roared approval. He fell and didn't get up, lying down on the cold floor, gasping for air as the adrenaline wore off and the pain became acute.

"Dom!"

Someone was rolling him over, moving him, and Cobb went to defend his face, paranoid of being pixelated. But when he opened his eyes, he was lying on the floor of the elevator.

"Dom!" The voice repeated. It was Arthur, and Yusuf was checking Cobb for injuries, and Saito was staring down at him, stunned. They were all there.

"You did it!" exclaimed Ariadne. "You won. We get to go to the next round."

Cobb's breathless gasping softened into laughter, and he sat up, rubbing the places on his ribs where he knew he'd have bruises if this had been a real fight. They all laughed, a little uncomfortably, but they were relieved.

And after a tense pause, as the elevator began to rise again through the depths of Tang's mind, Eames said what they were all thinking, but too scared to ask aloud.

"If _that_ was level one," he whispered, "I'd hate to see level two."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I noticed while looking up scenes as reference for this: did you know TRON: Legacy came out the same year as Inception? Just fun facts.


End file.
